


It's aldwight.

by LittleShopOfNina



Series: 80s Suitcase [1]
Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Bonding, Fluff, Haircuts, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-20 17:47:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14266368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleShopOfNina/pseuds/LittleShopOfNina
Summary: Jake's jacket was waterproof, but it wasn't Dwight-proof.((WHATS UP DUDES HAVE A ONE SHOT THAT MY BOYFRIEND GAVE ME THE IDEA FOR))





	It's aldwight.

_Gulp._

 

“Oh, God.” Dwight stammered. “That’s your _‘I’ve done something wrong’_ sound.”

 

Dwight was currently sitting in front of Jake on a log that was their makeshift-bench. His glasses were clutched firmly in his fists, and he held them like a toddler holding a marker for the first time. Too many of his calloused fingers held on to the frames, and had he squeezed one more time, they would have broken right down the center. The plastic frames shook in his bony hands, and he nervously shifted his hands so quickly that he was getting new callouses. Dwight was fully terrified.

 

Jake was, too. 

 

Rather than a pair of old glasses in his hand, Jake had a pair of scissors. They were rusted with remnants of the vegetation they’d been swallowed in, and were dull everywhere but the tips. Dangerously dull, Jake had to use his right hand rather than his left to be able to do any kind of work with them. Any cut he tried to make took extra force and this, in lieu of also being old scissors and also in his non-dominant hand, left room for plenty to go wrong. Jake was a relatively lucky guy, always upping the ante when he was in immense danger, and his risks always had a high reward. Selfishly, he hoped his luck was like a flu to his friends: contagious. Unfortunately, Dwight was immune.

 

As it was, the two had found an assortment of items thrown away behind a sea of thorn bushes and these scissors were only a fraction of what they’d found. When the two had been walking around to keep their minds from pondering the likelihood of death, one thing had lead to another and Jake had been the one to see something out of place in the shrubbery. Dwight had lectured him at a million miles a minute that thorn bushes were no place to be climbing into. Dwight had told him that he could get stuck. That he could get bitten. That he could fall and be unable to get out without a million needle pricks dragging across every bit of his body. Despite the graphic descriptions of pain, Jake’s rebelliousness wasn’t phased and he retrieved the box with slight difficulty. 

 

To summarize, Jake didn’t listen to Dwight and it barely paid off. The lost box contained relatively useless items like expired crackers, a few hair accessories, half a dozen shirts of different sizes, and these dull scissors. 

 

Holding them in his hands, Jake was glad he wore gloves all the time. No matter how hard he scrubbed or chipped at the grime, it wouldn’t budge. He wished Dwight hadn’t budged, either.

 

This whole thing was Dwight’s idea. A _stupid_ idea, Jake wanted to add. 

 

When they rummaged through what was useless, Dwight figured the scissors could be repurposed. Weeks had passed in their time in the godforsaken wasteland, and along with shrinking body mass, everyone’s hair was wild and out of control. Jake and Dwight were not able to securely tie theirs into a braid like Meg and were forced to constantly push it from their eyes. Jake’s had grown faster than anyone’s, and was so thick and full that it grew out rather than down. At times he looked like a clown with a filthy black wig, whereas Dwight’s was thin and just climbing down his ears like seaweed.

 

This problem withlong hair had gotten everyone into a pickle at one point or another, be it by gettinng grabbed or worse. The last thing any of them wanted, or _needed_ was their downfall to be from a crazed murderer pulling their hair. Dwight had agreed to be the first one to get the chop, because he was tired of looking as gross as he felt. 

 

Unluckily for him, Jake didn’t go to school for hair-cutting.

 

“Jesus, Jake, say something.” Dwight could feel a breeze blow on his head where the length had been sliced off on once side.

 

“Uh,” the sheep-headed man didn’t really want to say anything. “Pass.”

 

“Pass?” Dwight unscrewed his eyes and whipped around to look at his companion. He was blind as a bat without his glasses, and had to squint to see. Expecting to see a greedy smirk across Jake’s face, he could have sworn he saw a fuzzy but regretful grimace. The grimace was so thin and so vile that it explained his friend’s silence. “No, no, there isn’t a ‘pass’ option. What happened?” Jake really didn’t need to say anything. Catching on to the way his almond shaped eyes looked everywhere but at him, and how he was holding the scissors behind his back, Dwight swiftly threw a hand up to his hair. 

 

What remained of it.

 

The shriek that left his lips was more high-pitched than either of the women they knew. It sounded nasally and was close to a screech; like a train coming to an abrupt stop on a rusty track. Sparks flew out of his mouth in the form of breathy whimpers until his dull eyes lit up with tears of disbelief. 

 

Under his fingers was a soft, hairless patch as big as his hand.

 

“I didn’t mean to!” Jake frantically defended himself, gloved hands grabbing Dwight’s from his head after he’d put his glasses back on. Dwight was resisting every one of Jake’s pulls (not that he was surprised) and spewed words like a broken faucet. Jake didn’t reply to them all, but finally was able to overpower the chubbier male’s panic. Pinning Dwight’s hands to his lap, Jake dropped the scissors and sat next to him on the log. “It was an accident!”

 

Dwight easily threw his hands out from under Jake’s and returned to cover up a spot on the back of his head. “An accident?! Jake, I’m fucking _bald_!”

 

“It’s just a spot. Barely noticable!!”

 

The way he spoke out of his nose in a croak signalled he was close to laughing. Dwight was all but laughing. 

 

“Barely noticable?!”

 

It wasn’t ‘ _barely noticable;_. It was _very noticeable_ , though Jake didn’t want to say that. 

 

“I said I was sorry, Dwight!”

 

Beyond frantic and almost throwing himself on to Jake from craving sympathy, Dwight was sobbing now. How could a simple haircut have gone so awful?! How hard was it?! “Sorry doesn’t fix the fact that I have a huge bald spot, Jake!! You have a full head of hair! You don’t get it!!”

 

Most of the time, Jake’s hair was concealed under the thick wool of a beanie. It was now, though the thickness of his hair was slowly pushing it away from his head. “You’re right, you’re right.” Rolling his eyes as Dwight slumped into him on the log, Jake begrudgingly wrapped his arms around Dwight, who was sobbing and quite frankly, _overreacting_.

 

_What a fuckin’ spazz._ Jake rolled his eyes sarcastically. He hadn’t ever been good at comforting Dwight when he was a blubbering mess like this, but usually it was over stuff that actually mattered. Like Meg or Claudette not making it back to the fire tonight. Like getting smacked with a kitchen knife. _Not hair._

 

Dwight had turned his head to take his first breath in minutes, and the sounds of wet snot and tears being sniffed up made a chill race up his spine. There was no way some of it _wasn’t_ on his jacket, because if there was one thing Dwight could do, it was cry. That thought made Jake whimper. His jacket was waterproof, but it wasn’t Dwight-proof. Being held on to like he were the last human on earth, Jake could barely move in the way Dwight was clamped around his waist and burying into his chest. Dwight’s arms had a lock on him, which made any kind of moving impossible. 

 

Jake made a point of actively avoiding any of the other three -especially Dwight- when it came to affection, though something told him he should respond.

 

So, he patted his head.

 

Lifting his head, Dwight’s face was red like a cherry, and looked like he just stepped out of a swimming pool. Jake couldn’t tell what was sweat and what was tears. What was left of his hair was flattened to one side, making it look like a child had done the job, and Jake couldn’t help the frown tugging his lips into a thin line. Whether Jake was affected or not, Dwight was. Even though it was nighttime and the fire was their only light-source, Dwight’s expression was brighter than the stars. 

 

“Here,” Jake huffed huskily. Removing his beanie and slapping to to Dwight’s chest, the leader squirmed enough that Jake could wiggle loose. 

 

Dwight looked at the wool hat like he’d never seen one before.

 

“It’s a hat.”

 

He wiped his eyes with muddy hands. “I know what...I-I know what a hat is.”

 

Dwight looked at it for what felt like an eternity, and Jake was growing more annoyed. Closing his eyes, he forced himself to breathe through his nose. “So use it.” His words were strangled with gritted teeth. 

 

Dwight didn’t need to be told a second time.

 

~

 

Eventually Dwight had calmed down and Jake was asked to cut the remaining seaweed on Dwight’s head. Without any hair, Jake was able to count the few black freckles on the other’s scalp, and connected the dots with a trace of his finger. Dwight had shuddered and smacked his hand away, now in the grumpier stages of his woe. 

 

“‘Yer hair was really thin. It really kind of just fell out.” Jake dropped the scissors and admired Dwight. 

 

With the beanie and glasses and pouted lips, Dwight looked absolutely ridiculous. Meaning, he looked exactly the same.

 

Dwight sighed. “I know. I just didn’t want to be bald this soon.”

 

“You did look kinda weird.”

 

For the first time all night, Dwight laughed. “You are a real smooth-talker. It’s a wonder you didn’t have a girlfriend.”

 

“Yeah. I’d have to give _her_ my hat and not you.” Jake was visibly uncomfortable by that statement, laughing a little, and changed it immediately. “It probably just fell out ‘cause ‘yer always uptight.”

 

Dwight couldn’t argue with that logic. 

 

“B’sides,” Jake ran a hand through his own hair, which made Dwight sear with envy. “It’s a look.” Without any hair or so much as a beard, Dwight looked more like a child than a stranded survivor.

 

“A look? Is that good or bad?”

 

“I’ll have to look at it more to find out,” and for the first time all night, Jake finally laughed, too.


End file.
